The Buried Heart
by Random Ravenclaw91
Summary: Tom Riddle was in love with Merope. How it happened, she didn't know. But the blow of knowing the one she loved was in the arms of another leaves her heartbroken and her life shattered. Part one in the "Watching Over Her" trilogy


**Author's Notes:**

_Thanks to meganlupin for betaing!_

_This title is not mine. It's from a story I read in German (which I loved despite its creepiness)._

_My best friend Cecilia challenged me to write a fic about the most minor character ever — the Muggle girl named Cecilia from HBP. So I did._

I sighed inwardly as I watched her sit there, her lovely pink dress spread on the grass as she sat perfectly still – waiting, watching. For the first time, I didn't want to talk to her. I didn't want her to describe her problems, because I knew that every word she said would make me feel worse and worse.

Still, she was my best friend and I couldn't do nothing at all. I straightened my back and softly walked to her. "Cecilia, what's wrong? Why aren't you with your family? Your brother _did_ just get married. And I think the band is currently following him around like those annoying carolers at Christmas." Why was I babbling? I think I just was covering up what I really wanted to say.

She looked up at me and tried to smile. "I'm just waiting for him. I'm just waiting for him to come," she repeated softly, as if trying to convince herself that he would be there.

After all these years it was so easy to just look like a concerned friend and nothing more. It was so easy to look casual as I sat next to her and put my arm around her waist. But it was anything but easy for me. Every look of comfort caused my physical anguish. I don't know why I insisted on seeing her so often. She was like a drug to me. The more I saw her, the more I wanted to.

"Maybe he was too busy to come today," I answered, wondering about the last time she saw him. "Did you talk to him yesterday?"

"No, he was supposed to be here yesterday, but he never came then either. I'm worried," she confessed, her voice quiet as she looked down at her hands. "I know it's ridiculous to be, but I have this feeling that I won't see him again."

I laughed softly. "Cecilia, it isn't like you to be superstitious. He'll be here."

Cecilia had been dating Tom Riddle for years. They weren't engaged, but there was always an understanding that someday there would be a marriage. Since she was twenty and he was five years older, it was expected that a proposal wasn't far off.

But did I like him?

God, no.

His parents were too rich for their own good, and they acted like it. They acted like they were better than everyone else.

Tom wasn't quite as bad, but he wasn't great. He wasn't the man for Cecilia, I knew. He was hot-tempered and held his own air of superiority. He told bad jokes and all the girls loved him. He never thought Cecilia should be friends with me because I wasn't rich. He thought I didn't deserve to be her friend.

But I did believe he was faithful to her. If there was one thing I could be sure about, it would be the fact that he loved her as much as she loved him.

But Cecilia was perfect. Well, at least as far as I was concerned, she was perfect. She was obviously beautiful, but it was more than that. She was kind and sweet. She worried too much and cried too often, but that was just because she cared. She cared about everyone almost to a fault, and so she got hurt more often than anyone. But she wasn't stupid. She understood people better than they understood themselves. And she never hated anyone because of that.

"He's not coming," she suddenly said in a hollow voice. "He isn't coming even though he knew how important this day was for me." She put her head down to her knees and kept it there. I was sure that she was crying silently.

I had known her all of my life. I knew everything about her, from her deepest secrets to her favourite flower (tulips, by the way). I knew and understood her far more completely than that damn Riddle ever could.

I was getting angry at him. I hated to see her cry, and he was the one causing it.

"Do you think going to the wedding reception would help, Cecilia? I mean, it is your brother's party, after all. You have to go some time."

"I know, Edward. I was just hoping–"

"But at some point you'll have to stop waiting," I interrupted, trying to keep my voice from sounding harsh. "You waited for him for years before you started dating, and now you're waiting again."

"I know," she answered. "But it's different now. I can't just give up."

"Why can't you? And it isn't giving up. All I'm asking is that you don't just sit here. Join in the party. Get some food and dance with me later. Have a good time and try to forget," I told her, trying to sound persuasive. She might not realise it, but someday she would be angry with herself that she'd missed her brother Richard's wedding party.

She sighed. "Okay, Ed. I guess. But can we take a walk later? Just the two of us, if he doesn't come?"

I smiled at her. "Of course we can… So, are you hungry?"

"Actually, no. Not at all," she answered as I pulled her to her feet.

"They're probably done by now anyway," I said lightly. I kept her hand in mine as we walked back. To her it was just a friendly, warm gesture, and I wished that was all it was to me, too.

Sure enough, as we walked back into the courtyard, all the food was cleared away except for the desserts and drinks. We sat down, and the next moment I heard the chiming sound of silver on crystal coming from the seat next to me, and I knew it was time for a toast. But I couldn't help but be surprised that Cecilia was the one giving it when she had been so depressed just minutes before.

I stared into her blue eyes as she stood waiting for silence. She looked to her brother, though, and some of the sadness seemed to wash away as she realised the reason she was the only one standing.

"Richard is my brother," she announced to the many tables of relatives, friends, and acquaintances. "I'm sure you all know that, but I just wanted to say that he's the greatest brother a girl could have. And I'm just so glad," she continued in the same strong voice, "that he found such a great woman to share the rest of his life with. I've known Eliza for years, and I'm very happy she's the one who'll be my sister." She looked fondly at the small, average-looking woman sitting next to the tall, regal Richard. She could in no way be described as beautiful, but she was such a kind person that everyone seemed to love her. Her personality made up for her plainness in appearance, and she almost glowed with happiness as she looked at her husband.

"And I just think it's one of the most wonderful things in the world that two people who love each other so much can get – married… and be so – happy." Cecilia's voice began to falter, and the joy that had been so firmly set in her eyes the second before had faded, no matter how bright her smile remained. I knew she was thinking of Riddle, and I instantly stiffened. "I just can't even describe how – happy I am – for the two… of you…" She looked ready to cry again, but not out of happiness. I sprang up next to her.

"And with that," I declared, "I say we have the toast. To the bride and groom!"

"To Richard and Eliza!" the crowd cheered, not noticing that Cecilia had sunk into her chair, her smile still plastered on but her eyes blank and emotionless.

The happy couple shared their glass of champagne, and I applauded dutifully at the significant tradition. Cecilia brought her hands together once or twice, and then they remained folded in her lap, her knuckles white.

The music began a few minutes later, and I laughed softly at the memory of the band chasing around Richard and Eliza. Cecilia looked up at me, almost scandalised, but I just stood and asked softly, "May I have this dance?"

Some of the haunting sadness receded from her eyes and her small smile was real as she took my hand and stood. "Of course, Ed," she answered quietly as we joined a few couples in the swirling pattern of the dance.

I pulled her to me, and we danced around gracefully. The song was slow but pure; it was a beautiful song, but there was something haunting in the depths of it. I tried not to think about that aspect as we began to speak.

"Thanks," she told me, blushing slightly. "I almost broke down back there, so thank you."

I shrugged. "It's okay. That's what friends are for, right?" I asked. But my voice lowered as I stepped into a dangerous topic. "But don't you ever think you might be able to forget about him if he _did_ leave?"

"Why would he leave?" she demanded, her eyes wide. The couple next to us stared for a moment before forcing themselves to look away and return their attention to the dance.

"I don't think he is, honestly, but… but – maybe – there could be someone else?"

"There's no one else," she answered flatly. "He's… he's just…" She trailed off, shaking her head slightly.

"Perfect?" I suggested, sarcasm and cynicism extremely obvious in my voice.

"No," she answered, her head shaking once again and her eyes distant. "I love him, but I don't think he's perfect. I don't think it's necessary to think someone's perfect to be love in them. I think that if you're really in love, you can see their faults as well as the things that make them wonderful. I can clearly see his faults and love him… not in spite of them, and not because of them." Her eyes were a bit puzzled as she had difficulty explaining her feelings. "They exist, and I guess he wouldn't be himself without his faults. It's just another thing that makes him the man I'm in love with."

I cringed visibly and missed a step as she said her last statement so plainly and sincerely. Usually she said things like that with a dreamy, far-off look that made me think she wasn't serious. Like she was just caught under his spell. But that speech had been so truthful.

I knew she was in love with him. In love with Tom Riddle.

"Do you want to go back and get some dessert or something?" I asked softly, not wanting to say anything about her speech that had rung so true in my ears.

"No," she said softly, laying her head against my shoulder. "I just want to dance for a few more minutes.

So we did. We moved slowly and simply, and all I wanted was for her to be in love with me instead of the man who hadn't shown up. The man who had disappointed her so much…

She sighed deeply and then pulled back and looked up at me. "How about that walk?

I smiled. "Sure. Come on."

We walked together down the lane, neither of us bothering to talk as we just enjoyed each other's company

"Where are we going?" she asked suddenly, her eyes darting around the forest.

I shrugged. "Just down the lane," I answered, wondering why she was so scared. "What's wrong?"

"Tom and I have ridden down here so many times," she answered, her eyes still large and frightened.

"So?"

"Oh, it's nothing really. There's just this one shack that's really strange. We went riding past it a few months ago and noticed that there was a snake nailed to the door…" she trailed off, and her gaze seemed to focus in the different direction of the hovel.

"Do you want to turn back?" I asked softly.

"No, it's fine. We ride here all the time," she answered as if trying to convince herself as much as me.

"I've seen that hovel too. It is really–"

I noticed that she was no longer beside me, so I turned around and followed her gaze. I could barely make out the house in the midst of the trees. "This is worse than I remember it," I whispered to her, for some reason not wanting to talk loudly.

But she pulled me behind a tree as the door to the hovel opened.

"Who's that?" I hissed, trying and failing to make out the people now standing in the doorway of the shack. But as I realised she hadn't responded, I looked at her, I saw that her eyes were huge as she, herself, stared at the people.

I looked back to the scene. There was a small woman, looking up into a man's face with pure love. My eyes traced his features, and I suddenly realised the impossible. I grabbed Cecilia's hand, but she wrenched it away and stepped out so that she could see him better.

Tom Riddle and the girl stood close to one another whispering quietly and staring into each other's eyes with expressions that looked almost unreal. We only heard three words drift toward us: "I love you," he told the girl and we watched as he pressed his lips to hers. They stood like that, kissing passionately for what seemed like hours. I looked at my best friend, but she was standing completely still, her eyes cold and emotionless. It was so unusual for her not to be crying.

She stepped out from behind the tree and stood in plain view as Tom and the girl finished their kiss and walked to his horse. For a split second, Tom saw Cecilia, but his eyes just held a blank stare, almost as though he didn't even recognise her.

I stood silently behind her as she watched them ride away. As soon as they were out of sight, she raced inside in hovel. I followed her and arrived just in time to see her throwing a note back on the table and storming outside.

For a moment I just stood there, torn and not knowing whether to read the note or comfort my best friend. But I soon choose the obvious answer, and, leaving the shack, was just in time to see her running down the lane.

I caught up to her at the edge of the forest. She was sinking to her knees, as though lacking the strength to stand anymore.

"Cecilia!" I gasped and swooped down next to her. She wasn't crying. I couldn't believe she wasn't crying.

She sat there silently, her entire body quaking. Her eyes looked dead.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered to her, trying to find the words to express my feelings. I might have hated Tom Riddle, but I had always thought he was in love with Cecilia and would never hurt her. And seeing her hurt like this was indescribable. I wanted to kill him now, just for the pain I knew she must be feeling. "I never thought that would happen. I wish I could–"

"Just stop talking to me," she cried fiercely, jumping up. "I don't need your sympathy. It's over now, so that's it."

Anger flashed in her eyes, and I couldn't even think of anything to say. She was acting so different. "Let's go," she said, turning her back to me and walking away.

I stared blankly after her, again torn between returning to the shack to see what the note said and going after Cecilia. But I couldn't abandon her when she was acting so strangely, so I followed her.

I looked into her face and saw no anger, no sadness, no bitterness. I saw no emotions at all, and that worried me more than anything ever had.

——————————————

I hadn't seen her in a week, and I heard that she hadn't set foot outside her bedroom since coming home that night.

But I had enough. I wasn't about to stand around outside when I was her best friend and deserved to know how she was. I needed to know that nothing horrible had happened to her in the last week. I walked quickly up the walkway to her house, and tried not to think of all the terrible things that could have come out of seeing Riddle leave her.

I knocked on the door to her family's home, prepared to break her bedroom door down if necessary.

Her mother opened the door, and a look of relief swept over her face when she saw it was me. "Edward, thank God you're here," she said. "You might be able to get her to come out of that bedroom."

"What's wrong with her? Has she talked about it?"

"No, but she did tell Eliza that Tom left her. And that's all. Is it true?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Oh… Well then, go talk to her, dear. Maybe you'll cheer her up." Her face was pained, and I knew that she had wanted Riddle as a son-in-law. His loss, it seemed, hadn't just affected Cecilia.

"I'll try," I answered before taking the familiar path up to her bedroom. Reaching the door – it was, of course, closed – I breathed deeply and knocked.

"Who is it?" a voice called from inside.

"It's me," I answered, opening the door before she could tell me to go away.

"Just leave, Ed. I don't want to talk."

"Cecilia, it's been a week. You'll have to leave this bedroom eventually."

I sat down on the chair next to hers. Her bedroom, granted, was very large. There were bookshelves, a seating area, the sleeping area, and a large closet. There was light blue wallpaper, and – in happier times – the room had always seemed light and cheery. But the blank stare of its beautiful inhabitant seemed to create a sadness in the room itself.

"No, I'm fine being in here. I've read so many books this past week. It's doing wonderful things for me. I can almost feel myself getting smarter," she answered, her voice sounding cheery, perky, and even happy. But the dead look in her eyes that had settled the week before was still there, and I knew the happiness wasn't real.

"Have you cried?" I asked suddenly.

"Of course not!" she answered, smiling brightly. "It's not the end of the world. Everything is fine. I've just gotten so distracted by my books that I haven't been outside. I haven't been avoiding anyone, I promise."

"It's not okay," I told her persuasively, knowing that what she needed more than anything in the world was to realise that everything wasn't all right. That it was okay to be sad and cry. That she didn't have to be uncharacteristically strong.

"Why are you being so mean, Ed? Of course it's okay. He was just a man. I can date other people if I want to."

"But you were in love with him."

I saw a brief flash of pain in her eyes. It was a real expression, and I was happy to see that, underneath the falsely cheerful facade that she was trying so hard to put forth, she still did have feelings. Any feeling was better than this terrible blankness that seemed to have quickly replaced the pain she had felt back at the shack last week.

"Oh, that doesn't matter," she answered, laughing hollowly. "People fall in love all the time. I can fall in love again with someone else."

"But it won't be the same, will it?"

"Well, I'm young. I think it was a bit naïve of me to truly believe _Tom Riddle_ would stay in love with me for so long. I mean, I'm nothing special."

"Of course you are!"

"No, I must be incredibly ordinary or else Tom might have–"

"He's a bastard to do that to you," I answered.

"Don't insult him!" she cried, but then her voice became emotionless again. "He's a wonderful man, and I'm sure he'll make that other woman very happy. They're getting married, you know. That's what the note said."

"Oh my God, they are?" I asked, leaning forward. "That's terrible. I'm _so_ sor–"

"I don't need your sympathy," she answered in a way that was so reminiscent of that night a week before.

"Why are you being like this? Why won't you let yourself be sad? This man that you were so in love with _left_ you, Cecilia, don't you understand that? Don't you understand that you should be angry and sad?"

She covered her face with her hands, and I knew I was making it hard for her to keep her emotionless mask.

"He's terrible, isn't he? You can say it. And you can say that woman is terrible for stealing him. Because it's true, isn't it? Isn't it, Cecilia?"

"No," she moaned, her voice sounding strange from behind her hands. "It's fine. I'm okay."

"You're not okay," I said, my voice harsh but feeling terrible all the while for causing her this pain that she so desperately needed to feel.

"Yes, I am," she answered, but all of a sudden, without any warning, I heard her begin to sob.

I went and sat at the foot of her chair, grasping one of her hands in my own. "I'm so sorry," I said sincerely. "I'm so terribly sorry."

She sat next to me, and she sobbed into my shoulder for almost an hour. I put my arm around her, not bothering to speak. I just let her cry, because that was what she needed.

——————————————

"Are you sure you want to?" I asked her, only two weeks after that. "I'm sure Eliza wouldn't mind if you couldn't come–"

"Ed, you really need to stop worrying about me. I'm fine, really." She smiled at me, but her eyes still hadn't lost the haunted look they had carried for nearly a month.

"Are you sure?"

"I was barely at the wedding party. The least I can do is go to this dinner with them. Are you sure _you_ don't mind? I don't want to force you into something you don't–"

"Of course I want to come," I laughed. "I just can't help but worry about you." I reached instinctively for her, but stopped myself. Just because Riddle was gone did not mean that it was time for Cecilia to fall in love with me. Three weeks wasn't enough. A year probably wouldn't even be enough.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm completely fine. Now let's go."

She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the house. I laughed and fell in step with her as we walked down the road. "Your brother's house is really close, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Father gave him some of our land, I think."

"Makes sense." I knocked on the door, and we were soon ushered into the house, where Eliza and Richard were happily waiting for us.

"Oh, hello, dear," Eliza exclaimed, jumping up and hugging Cecilia. "We've missed you."

"You saw me last week," she said, giggling slightly.

I smiled at the three of them, slowly realising that it was the first time I'd heard Cecilia laugh since before the wedding.

——————————————

We were silent as we walked back to her house, and I was deep in thought.

I knew that she would never be the same again. Even if the nearly impossible happened, I didn't believe that it would be the same between him and Cecilia. There would always be distrust, and I highly doubted she would ever even take him back. Although, such a thing wasn't even much cause for thought; he wouldn't be coming back. I had seen his face, and he had so obviously been in love with that girl.

But even in spite of that, I could practically see Cecilia getting stronger. I knew that, one day, I would be able to look into her eyes without seeing the poignant sadness that they currently held. I knew beyond all shadow of a doubt that she would be okay, and that I would help her every step of the way.

I took her hand like I had so many other times, and she looked up at me and smiled.


End file.
